Not Falling Apart
by Silveritis
Summary: After the Blight Alistair must find a wife. Former Circle Mage, and fellow Grey Warden Isha Amell is his Chancellor. Little does he realize the woman he wants is right under his nose. But when she leaves suddenly, is it too late for them?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there!**

**Gosh! This is scary, its been a while since I tried to write a fanfiction that wasn't a one shot... so please bare with me on this. It will be a labour of love (I hope). I hope you enjoy this first chapter, please let me know what you think. :3**

**For the moment, the rating is Teen. It will change and become mature later on. Just a forewarning! **

The moon was high over Ferelden tonight. Full and glistening silver. It seemed to shine its light directly down onto the crown jewel of the country, Denerim. The Blight was over, the civil war avoided entirely, and the new King was loved by the nobles and commoners alike. After the massive battle that had taken place, where the Archdemon was destroyed, it had taken some time for Denerim to return to her former glory. The Market District had been completely rebuilt, as had the Alienage. Amazingly almost everyone had chipped in to assist. The common folk, the gentry and the elves. All joining forces for a common cause.

The new King has also made appearances daily working with his subjects to build his home back to way it had been, improving it in some ways.

That was part of the reason he was so well liked. He integrated himself with everyone. He was knowledgeable enough to hold his own with the nobles of the Landsmeet, but he was not so above his station that he did not enjoy the simple things in life. An evening at the local tavern with a tankard of good ale, and better company. Exchanging stories with his subjects.

With them, talking easily without pause or pressure was where he excelled best. While he held twice weekly audiences where people of all classes could propose their troubles to him for his evaluation; in the tavern he was most comfortable and felt he did his best work.

Despite the concerns of his personal guard and his advisors, King Alistair continued to do things his way... now happier to stand up for himself. After all, he often worked on the base advice he had received once before the Blight had been defeated; that no one could tell a King what to do.

It was summer now, Denerim had been rebuilt through a tough Autumn, a fierce Winter and a wet Spring. But with summer now in full bloom Denerim was the picture of glory and reality she had always been. The wind was soft, sending warm, scented breezes up into the castle from the herb gardens. The Landsmeet had organised a gathering of all of Ferelden's gentry for Alistair, a celebration of getting Denerim back on its feet, and also an opportunity for him to meet all the eligible noble women of the court. Alistair was not aware of the second reason for the gathering.

He had been King for nearly a year and ruled well alone, and with the advice of his advisors and his Chancellor; his fellow Grey Warden who had helped in defeating the Blight, a former Mage of the Circle, Isha Amell. No matter how well he ruled though, the fact he had not yet taken a wife troubled the court, and often conversation rippled through the grand hall during sessions of court. Alistair was aware of their comments, and softly spoken troubles but had no aching desire to take a wife. In fact it was something he had not yet thought on.

The reason being his Chancellor. There had been a time when they had travelled as companions gathering Ferelden together, uniting its different peoples – they had shared a romance. But after he had become King... things had changed. Without realising it they had let their romance dwindle. Yet he was still in love with the dark haired mage, though it had been months since he had last said so. And the idea of taking a wife made him unsure and feel like he was breaking promises.

He had not mentioned this to anyone, and dared not speak of it to Isha.

As the celebration continued, Alistair mingled with the nobles he recognised, Bann Teagan with his new wife, Kellar; a native of Redcliffe. Arl Eamon, and his son Conner who had been allowed out of the Tower for this celebratory reason. He also mingled with other members of the Landsmeet he knew well, and those he needed to get to know better, so he could better work their politics on to his side. Despite his lack of knowledge in all things to do with running a kingdom, Alistair had surprised even himself with how quickly he had picked up the things he needed to know, and how to work people and politics to his advantage.

While he moved, chatted casually with those around him and danced quickly and unsteadily with those that asked – he had never been very adept at dancing – he was fully aware of his guards littered around the room, keeping a keen eye on guests, watching for danger – this was the perfect opportunity after all for an assassination attempt with so many people around. He was also aware of a pair of green eyes that never left him for the slightest moment.

She kept away from the main revelry; in fact she barely moved from where his throne was. Her faithful marbari hound, Argor, sat at her side chewing an ox bone. Isha was not one for joining in with such things as these grand parties. She felt out of place, not being of noble birth and being a mage also, she always felt a type of stigma and preferred to stay in the shadows so she did not alarm or worry any of the gentry. This evening was no different.

Some though, were not afraid of her; knowing her power and the part she had played in ending the Blight. Bann Teagan and Arl Eamon were two such people, and they kept her company in easy conversation.

"And what of the new haren in the Alienage, Shianni?" one noble woman was asking Alistair as he sipped his drink. He did not like these silly fancy glasses that were used. He preferred to hold a sturdy tankard. These glasses he felt like they would break if he held too tightly.

"What about her?" he asked.

"Well – she seems to be causing some trouble."

Alistair proffered his best smile, "and what trouble would that be, Lady Uleth?"

"She stirs the elves up so. Many of my servants have complained about working conditions where they did not so before; it is my belief that she should be silenced somehow. Locked away." Lady Uleth explained. "After all, her riling up on the elves... it breaks the peace, does it not?"

"She argues for rights for her people. She wants what is best." Alistair replied, "I think that is a noble thing, don't you?"

Lady Uleth spluttered uncomfortably. "Well, I.. Your Majesty-"

"Yes, my Lady?" Alistair's smile remained, but his voice had a barely detectable edge of warning to it. One thing he could not abide was the way nobles treated the elves of the Alienage, even now despite how they had helped in the battle, and how their brethren, the Dalish had also helped.

"I simply meant, Your Majesty-"

"Have a care with my name, you will wear it out." Alistair grinned. He left her speechless making a bee line for his throne. He wished to speak to Arl Eamon about arranging a visit to Redcliffe sometime soon; and for the moment he was in deep conversation with Isha and Bann Teagan's wife Kellar. Before he could reach his desired location though Arl Wulffe swept him up in an arm and directed him towards his pretty daughter, Elina. Alistair had met with Elina many times over the past few months. She was intelligent, gentile and well spoken. He was fully aware that she was his favoured match by many of the nobles. She was very attractive too, strawberry blonde hair down to her waist currently tied back in braids; almond shaped blue eyes, a shrewd mouth, and she was taller than many of the women in the court.

She couldn't have been more unlike Isha if she tried.

Isha's black hair was short, barely below her shoulders, and she wore it up most of the time. She was short, almost the same height as an elf woman. She had an sweet up-turned nose, a small smattering of freckles across her nose and eyes the green of elf root, which were large and baleful.

"Elina," Alistair greeted with a warm smile. She was a wonderful conversationalist, and in truth Alistair enjoyed her company. They flirted in little ways and were able to hold long conversations. She would have made a fine queen – no doubt. The only problem was that he was not in love with her, like he was with Isha still.

"Your Majesty," Elina bowed deeply to him. She was dressed in a deep red velvet gown, which complimented her hair and skin tone beautifully. It had a low-cut front and deep sleeves lined with gold lace. The bodice had embroidery decorating, and the skirt of the dress had further lace intricately detailed into shapes. "I trust Your Majesty is enjoying the festivities?"

"I am." Alistair replied, "and how many times must I tell you, please call me Alistair."

"Is... to informal, Majesty." Elina replied, bowing again, "forgive me."

"I see," Alistair pursed his lips, "how does just 'Al' grab you then?" He grinned, Elina giggled. Their conversation continued from there, he led her around the dance floor, one of her arms laced with his. They moved in between groups and dancing couples, talking and chatting easily to those who spoke to them first, and those who Alistair wished to speak to.

It made Isha's chest ache painfully to see him so blissful and happy, she could barely stand it. But she didn't dare leave. She put herself through the torture most days, watching him talk and tease so openly with women, as he had once done with her. She made the effort to avoid him now. Avoid being alone with him, avoid conversations, avoid touching him at all costs. It was all a precaution for her, not wanting to let herself fall back into old habits, and also not allow her old feelings to return. He was King – he was untouchable now.

He needed to find a wife, one who could bear children without risk of the Taint. She needed to get passed her feelings. She had tried to bury them deep inside, forget they existed. But they reared up more often than she would have liked.

The last few weeks had been the worst for some time. Only Argor saw or heard her, but she often cried herself to sleep hugging the mabari who whined sympathetically to her plight. It had become worse as the members of the Landsmeet had made a more conscious effort to match Alistair with women of suitable rank and birth.

She had never stood a chance.

"My Lady?" Isha was surprised from her stupor by Bann Teagan, gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She stared at him, and slowly blinked.

"Oh, Teagan... I'm sorry. What were you saying?" she asked.

"It... is not important. Tell me are you feeling well?" Teagan inquired, his brow creasing with worry. Beside him was Kellar, a few months pregnant with their first child.

Isha cleared her throat, "yes..." she forced a smile, "yes. I am sorry – I did not mean to stare into the distance as I did. It was rude of me. Please, tell me – when is the happy day?" She was talking about the approximate date when their baby was to arrive, it was the last thing she could recall speaking to Kellar about.

"We believe it will be December, in time for Feast Day!" Kellar explained excitedly. Isha smiled. She liked Kellar, she had from the moment Teagan had introduced her to the court. She was young, with long red hair and chestnut eyes. She was taller than Isha, and had the nimble build of a rogue.

"That's wonderful." Isha expressed, at her feet Argor barked happily in agreement. "Have you thought of names?"

Teagan looked awkward for a moment, "well... we had a few ideas."

"Tell me!" Isha pressed eagerly. She was trying think of happier things, and nothing could be happier than parents expecting a child. She was also trying to avoid watching Alistair swirl with Elina in the throngs of dancers, his hand in the small of her back, while he whispered private words to her and whatever it was he said, caused the woman to laugh.

"If it is a boy we were thinking of Samuel." Teagan explained.

"And a girl?"

"Isabella." Kellar said, enthusiastically.

Isha smiled, the first time she felt she had for months. "They're wonderful names." She truly meant it too. She had never considered what she would name children if she ever had the chance to have them... not that there was much chance of that any longer. What with the Taint in the blood, and with the man she loved searching for a wife.

At that moment, her eyes flickered to Alistair as the room erupted into gasps, laughter and applause. In the midst of it all was Alistair, his lips captured by Elina. Isha froze on the stop. Her stomach sank, and she felt like she had swallowed a rock. Her throat ran dry, at the same time her heart began to beat so fast it hurt, she was sure others could hear the noise.

Seeing him holding the hands of other women. Touching them, dancing with them. Making them laugh, flirting and teasing she could take. But the sight of him kissing someone else was a sight so terrible it she could only equate the pain to that of the nightmares she had had of the darkspawn and the Archdemon during the Blight. She felt sick.

"My Lady?"

Isha was shaking, "excuse me Teagan, please." She retreated quickly, rushing from the room through a side door that led out to a balcony. Stairs followed off the balcony down to the gardens, and another set up to the second floor to the private quarters of the King and his closest consorts. Her room was up there, a hall away from Alistair's.

She ran, and caught herself on the stone barrier made to stop anyone falling from the balcony's height. She was gasping, tears that had burned her eyes were falling down her face, dripping onto the stone work. Argor followed after her, whining and barking with worry. Isha grasped her hand to her mouth to stifle sobs that wracked her body. She ran down the steps and retreated into the gardens.

At the far end of the gardens, secluded was a stone bench, and a small ornate fountain which had been decorated with Duncan's shield. This area of the garden had been planted with rose bushes. Dozens of them. They were all in bloom and Isha was suddenly surrounded with blossoms of yellow, pink and white. There was only one bush that produced red roses. It had been Isha's favourite. Now, just seeing the red roses sent a new wave of nausea washing over her; remembering the rose he had given her that night at camp, outside of the Spoilt Princess at Lade Calenhad.

"Oh Maker..." Isha sobbed. She allowed herself to cry freely here, away from people, where no one could hear her. She slumped on the ground, leaning on the bench with her arm; covering her eyes with her free hand. She shook violently as if her very life force was being drawn from her by a blood mage.

Argor whined as he approached and nudged her shoulder tentatively with his cold nose. He whined further when Isha did not respond and fervently shoved his head under her arm. Isha managed a small laugh at her stubborn mabari, wrapping her arms around his bulk and sobbing into his fur.

She was unsure how long it had been before she heard footsteps approaching. She had stopped crying, but refused to let Argor go. For now he seemed to be the only thing sustaining her.

"Warden..." It was Teagan's voice she heard. His feet crunched on the gravel. "Have you wept all this time?" Tears began to flow afresh from her eyes. Isha's fingers grasped to Argor's fur, he nuzzled her hair affectionately. Teagan sat on the stone bench and lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. He was not as blind as the rest of the nobles it seemed. He had seen the way Alistair and the Warden had looked at each other when they had been together during the Blight. He had been certain they would marry once he took the throne, and had been shocked when Alistair had not.

"I will weep longer." Isha murmured, "please Teagan – I do not wish you or anyone to see this weakness in me."

Teagan sighed, "I am your friend, Warden, I shall not leave, even if you beg me. To feel so strongly over one you love... it is not weak. You are human."

Isha shuddered, "I feel so... wretched." She said softly, between shaking breaths. "I hate how I feel."

"I would imagine it is normal." Teagan spoke softly, "to feel as you do, if you are denied the one you love." He waited for a response from the dark haired woman. She shifted, adjusting her position and curling away from Teagan. He cleared his throat, released her shoulder and clasped his hands together in his lap. "To have him flaunted before you... while you watch as others vie for his attention. His affection."

"It hurts." Isha said finally. "It hurts so much that I want to scream. I want to call out to all of Ferelden of the unfairness of this situation. Most of all I want to scream at _him_."

"Why?"

"He had no intention of marrying me – I see that now." Isha explained. She was unable to keep the bitter tone from her voice, "it was cruel to keep me here, knowing how I felt about him when he knew sooner or later those in the Landsmeet would want him to find a wife. Leaving me to watch..."

Teagan swallowed, "I do not think that Alistair is a cold man like that... he would never knowingly go out of his way to hurt someone. Least of all someone he cares about as much as you."

"He does not care!" Isha snapped viciously. She rose to her feet. Her sorrow was giving way to anger. "He never did! They were just words. Sweetened words that he never meant!"

"If you believe that, then you do not know him." Teagan said softly. He knew Isha was angry, and that she did not believe the things she said, despite how vehemently she said them.

Isha paused, "you are right. I do not know him." She released a shuddering breath, "nor do I think I ever did."

"Teagan?" Isha turned suddenly, Alistair's voice echoing over the rose bushes. He was at the entrance of the garden. Teagan stood. "Teagan?"

"Here, Your Majesty." Teagan called back. Alistair's face lit up in a grin. He strode across the garden a picture of royalty. Even without his armour he was a fine specimen to look at, broad shoulders, a well formed torso, long, muscles legs. Straight nose, defined chin, beautiful eyes. Isha quickly rubbed her face with her hands.

"Your wife was looking for you. I believe she means to retire." Alistair explained. Teagan nodded, offered his good nights and disappeared. For the moment Alistair did not appear to have noticed Isha's dishevelled appearance as he moved passed her and sat on the stone bench Teagan had been sitting upon moments before. He exhaled deeply and stared up at the dark sky, littered with stars. Isha tensed, she did not want to be here – did not want to be around him. She would lose all control on her emotions if she did.

There was a rustle of bushes which caught her attention, she saw Alistair fingering one of the red roses, he had picked it.

"This reminds me of the one I gave you... the one I picked in Lothering." He paused and gently touched its velvet petals. "Do you remember?"

Of course she remembered. She remembered the way her heart had fluttered when he had given it to her. How curious she had been when she had seen him night after night toying with him as if trying to make a decision. It had been her first _real_ gift... and the sentiment behind it was a beautiful one. She had treasured it. Kept it safe, maintained it with magic.

"Yes." Isha replied softly, trying to not let her voice shake. She had not turned to face him, and did not intend to.

"Do you still have it?" Alistair asked.

Did she? Yes. After Shale had almost flattened it one day with his massive feet, she had decided keeping it alive was too dangerous for the rose, so had dried it and kept it safe between pages of one of her spell books. In fact that spell book still sat on her desk, and the pages where the rose was stored were well thumbed.

She swallowed, "no."

"Oh." Alistair said softly. Isha heard him move behind her, the sound of his clothes moving against each other. He was more accustomed now to wearing fine clothes made of cotton and linen, decorated with rich colours. "Well maybe you should have this one to replace it?" He held the rose out to her. Isha could see it out of the corner of her eye. "After all, you're still a rare and beautiful thing." Isha suppressed a shuddered. The first time he had said that she had felt like all the air had been knocked from her lungs, like she would fall over as her legs lost all feeling.

"I..." Isha struggled. She was going to hurt him. She wanted him to feel a moment of the pain she felt daily. "I must refuse."

"Why?" Alistair sounded shocked and a little hurt. "It's a gift."

"I do not want it." Isha said sternly, "Your Majesty." She added, to add a little salt to the wound. She called him Alistair when they were alone. Your Majesty was kept for social graces.

Alistair persisted, "why not? You've never refused a gift from me before?" Isha did not reply, she kept her back to him, staring at the castle walls a few metres away. Argor sat away from them, watching the scene. "Look at me." Again, Isha ignored him, her hands tightening into fists at her side. Alistair was glaring at her back, she could feel it. Like something was burning into her. Her skin tingled uncomfortably. "That's an order from your King." Said Alistair, finally resorting to the one thing he knew she would not, nor ever could refuse.

Isha turned to him. Her eyes stayed on the ground for a moment before she drew the courage to move her gaze slowly up. Up from his feet where he wore smart leather boots up to his knees, over his dark britches. His dark red cotton shirt was un-tucked, and slightly open at the top, he had been wearing a tunic before though seemed to have discarded it for now. Her eyes lingered briefly on his mouth, she was flooded with memories. The memories of her first kiss, other kisses that had followed with him. Kisses they had exchanged when they had slept together for the first time. A first time for the both of them.

Then there was that straight nose and the noble brow. His eyes were booring into her, she could still read him like an open book. He tried so hard to look angry and fierce. But his eyes were tinged with hurt, confusion and... what she could only describe as regret.

The rose sat ignored on the bench.

"What's the matter?" he asked, trying to stop his affection for her coming across in his voice.

"Nothing." Isha replied icily. She had to keep control. Keep tight control. She could do that. Mages were taught to control their emotions so they did not interfere with their powers. Alistair grasped the top of her arms in large hands gently, holding her in place. Isha struggled, and his grip tightened ever-so slightly. "Let me go."

"No." Alistair counted quickly. He stepped towards her. He was barely inches from her body from her face. The last time they had been this close... it had been during the final battle. Before they had entered Fort Drakon, she had kissed him. She could feel the body heat radiating from him, his breath on her face. It was all so familiar and yet at the same time... not. He was a different person now. He had changed so much. He was no longer Alistair the sweet, babbling Grey Warden. He was Alistair Theirin. Brother to the late Cailan, son to the late Maric. King of all Ferelden.

And he was forbidden to her.

He bent his head, and for a moment Isha believe he was about to kiss her. That would be a terrible thing. She would lose all her resolve. She would kiss him back, desperately. Hungrily. Filling it with all the passion she still felt for him, all the longing she had been keeping trapped inside for the past nine months. But he didn't, instead his head linger beside hers, he was breathing beside her ear. His scent was intoxicating. One Isha had missed.

"Please tell me what is wrong. I can see you have been crying." Alistair murmured, his tone barely above a whisper, "what upsets you so?"

She wanted to tell him. Maker knew how much she wanted to tell him. To let everything out of her chest. To express to him how much she missed being with him, how much she loved him. How much it hurt to see him with other women, how much she hated herself for still feeling this way. And also how much she had hated him for discarding her like a common whore when he had been made King. That made her ache so much, and filled her chest up with a sense of hate that over-rode her desperation to tell him all she had wanted to.

Isha schooled her expression, took Alistair's hands in hers and removed them from her shoulders. She stepped away from him, staring at his face coldly. "Nothing." She bowed low, "nothing that need concern you, my King." She did not rise from her position, instead stared at Alistair's feet. He was glaring again.

"Fine." He snapped, "be that way." He did not have the energy to dig deeper, even if seeing Isha upset made his heart ache. He strode away from her, if she was not going to divulge the information to him, then he would not force her. She would tell him sooner or later, she always did. "I intend to retire shortly." He said, using his most authoritative voice, saved only for the use on guards and in official states. "You may retire once I do, if that is your wish."

"Very well, Your Majesty."

"Good night, Chancellor." Alistair added slowly as he walked passed her.

"Pleasant dreams, Majesty." Isha replied. She waited until Alistair was back inside and she knew it was safe before she stood up entirely. Tears were rolling down her cheeks again, she was amazed she still had tears to cry. She did not think it was possible to cry as much as she had over the last few weeks. Argor approached her and nuzzled her leg. Isha squatted and rubbed her mabari's head with her fingers, rubbing his ears softly. He was her most devoted and trusted friend: they did not need any one else.

She sighed and rose to her feet, beckoning Argor to her side she walked slowly back up the stone steps, and stared into the great hall were the party was still in full swing. She leaned on the door frame, hidden from view, though she could see everyone.

This was not a world she was part of. Not a world she was welcome in. This was not a world she wanted to be a part of. She had been unhappy in the tower, locked in like a wild bird caught in a cage, wanting only to stretch its wings. She was unhappy here, more than she ever had been at the Circle because she was surrounded by those who feared and hated her for what she was. And she was within reach of the one thing she so desperately wanted and needed – and yet could not have.

The only time she could remember being happy was being on the road as she had been, with Alistair, Morrigan. With Sten the stoic Qunari who had become one of her wisest and most trusted friends. With Lelianna, her gentle bard friend; Zevran the rogue Antivan Crow with a tongue that could make even the worst women blush. Oghren, the loudmouth Dwarf who had become a close friend and her drinking partner. Even Shale... her golem companion who had talked endlessly to his pet rock, Herbert. She also missed Wynne, another Mage who she missed, who had acted as a guide and tutor for her. She missed them all. She also missed the open world... being here, cooped up. It did not suit her.

It was there and then Isha made a choice. She was going to leave, and she would leave that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you everyone for the feed back on the first chapter! It was so lovely to read! :D**

**Here is the next one, I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think! **

**

* * *

**

Morning at Denerim Palace came with roars and the sounds of chairs hitting the flag stones.

"GONE?" Alistair bellowed at one of the palace guards. "What do you mean, gone?" He demanded, throwing his arms out in frustration. He was at breakfast, with Arl Eamon, Teagan and Kellar. All his other guests had departed back to their own places of accommodation. Normally Isha joined him for breakfast – today she had not appeared as she normally did. At first Alistair had thought she was angry with him and avoiding him, but had asked two of the guards to summon her anyway.

She was his Chancellor, she had a job to do. It did not matter whether she was happy with him or not.

That was when the news had been delivered. Her door had been unlocked and many belongings had disappeared. The bed had not been slept in, the fire place was undisturbed. She had not been in her room.

Hearing the news Alistair had risen from his chair at such a speed, the chair had fallen back and crashed onto the floor, clattering.

"Exactly that, Your Majesty," the guard spoke, he seemed to be quivering. His name was Jack, he was a new recruit, this was only his fourth week and the first time he had spoken directly to the King. He wished it was better news he was delivering. He had never seen the King angry. "Chancellor Amell is... missing."

Alistair growled, resting his hands on the table and clenching the table cloth beneath his fingers. He had suddenly lost his appetite and waved his had dismissively. One of the elven servants dashed forth and took the full plate of food from his place.

"Have you informed Captain Ingus?" Alistair asked, staring up at the young guard from beneath furrowed eyebrows. Arl Eamon and Teagan were continuing to eat in awkward silence. Kellar was observing the exchange. Staring at the soldier, Alistair noticed a surprising resemblance to his Antivan elf companion, Zevran. His hair was startlingly blonde, and he had the same amber eyes. But not the tanned skin.

"I have not, Majesty." Jack replied tentatively, "I thought it best to inform you first!" He added quickly, not wanting to anger the King further.

Alistair sighed loudly. "Right."

He growled to himself, and took a deep drink from his goblet. Why would she disappear? They had fought before, they had exchanged heated words. What had been said in the garden yesterday had been nothing in comparison! And if anything he should have been angry with her. He had at least _tried_ to find out what was wrong with her. She had rejected his offer to help, rejected his gift. Rejected him.

For some reason that bothered him far more than anything else. That she had rejected him. She had never done that before.

"Stupid wench." Alistair hissed, slamming the drained goblet on the table. He turned his eyes on Jack. "Why are you still here? Go, inform Captain Ingus of Chancellor Amell's disappearance. She _must_ be found."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Jack bowed, "right away, Your Majesty." He bowed again and quickly left the room, relived to be out of the tense situation. Last he had seen, the Captain – a Redcliffe soldier who had risen through the ranks – had been in the barracks, checking on the new soldier recruits, putting them through their paces of getting their armour on and keeping their barracks neat. Ingus was a stickler for neatness. Jack had already had his area ransacked because it had not met his high standards twice. He did not want it to happen again.

The large door slammed behind the retreating soldier and it echoed through the vast room. Alistair was pacing, running his hands wildly back and forth through his blonde hair. He paced when he was a vast array of things, anxious, angry, disturbed, confused. For now he didn't know what he felt, but he traced the same set of flag stones for the same amount of steps each time before he turned and tracing the same pattern again, huffing crossly.

"Leave us!" Alistair shouted suddenly aiming his cry at the servants who waited around the room, as still as status trying not to be intrusive. He surprised Kellar so much that she toppled her own goblet. Teagan gently grasped her hand, kissing her temple. The act of affection caught Alistair off guard when he saw it.

He felt a pang of jealousy.

Since Teagan had got married he had been a picture of happiness. He had a strange, almost unearthly glow about him. He said it had come from finding someone he loved and marrying them. Arl Eamon had agreed he had felt the same when he had met his late-wife Isolde for the first time. Alistair had never felt jealous of Teagan before. He had been over the moon for him, finding Kellar. And more so when they had announced they were expecting a child. If anyone deserved happiness of a family, it was Teagan. He was a hard working, devoted man. Devoted to Redcliffe, devoted to his family, devoted to his King.

Alistair, at that moment wanted the simplicity of Teagan's life.

A wife, a child.

He didn't want to be King any more.

Teagan cleared his throat, and squeezed his wife's hand, "with all due respect Alistair," he said sternly, "if you are to roar like an injured mabari, I would like Kellar to leave, so she does not excite herself and cause any harm to the baby." His eyes were narrowed at the young King. He did not approve of Alistair's outcry. And neither, it appeared, did Arl Eamon who was also quietly angered with him.

Alistair cleared his throat, "of course. I apologise, Kellar." He bowed to the red head.

"Majesty," Kellar curtsied, unable to bow and quickly left the room with the remaining elves. She ventured to the rooms put aside for herself and Teagan where they were quite, the windows open above the herb garden, letting with warm summer smells swirl around her room like a calming scent. Kellar lay back on the bed to rest. She had not slept well.

Back in the dining room, Alistair had found pacing to be pointless and had slumped back in his chair after picking it back up from the floor.

Teagan and Eamon exchanged looks.

They had both spoken to Isha the evening before though Arl Eamon had not witnesses the things Teagan had, he was an astute man and had noticed how far off she had seemed. How she had not seemed herself, like her mind was elsewhere – as if she was in pain and wanted to be elsewhere. The brothers had discussed things after the revelry had wound down that night.

Eamon had met Teagan in the corridor outside his own quarters after Conner had gone to bed. They had retreated to Alistair's study and spoken seriously about things. They did not often speak on the personal lives of others – after all the lives of others were none of their business. But as Alistair was practically family and they both cared for Isha as a friend and also as the Hero of Ferelden they had been concerned.

Their discussions had led them to the conclusions that she was unhappy. And, even if he did not realise it for the moment, so was Alistair. He was not happy that had was being denied the right to marry the woman he wanted; that was why he had not yet taken a wife. And while he knew he needed to take one to ensure an heir, they reasoned he was not likely to take one, unless it was the missing Grey Warden. But there was no way to approach the King about this. After all – as they had agreed – it was not their place.

They had felt like a pair of gossips as they had talked.

"Alis- -"

"Why would she go?" Alistair shouted, his voice echoing around the room and off the walls until it was swallowed by the tapestries. "_Where_ would she go? Did she take Argor?"

"Alistair- "

"It just makes no sense." Alistair sighed loudly, he was pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes clenched shut and his jaw so tight that a muscle twitched. "If she was unhappy, she should have come to me..."

"So you knew she was unhappy?" Eamon asked briskly. To him it seemed as Alistair had become a better King, he had lost the things about him that had made him Alistair in the first place. He had come to understand the politics of Ferelden, the way to handle the Nobles, he was an enthusiastic King, undoubtedly. But it had seemed over the last nine months he had put so much into becoming a good King who understood everything to do with ruling a Kingdom, he had lost... himself somewhere.

Alistair's eyes opened, "I knew."

"Did you say to her?"

The King shook his head slowly from side-to-side. "No... Maker knows I should have. I had no idea why I didn't."

"Perhaps you were worried about _why_ she was unhappy." Teagan suggested. He was leaning back in his seat. He looked relaxed but had hawk-like eyes trained on the King, watching for his reaction, for the tiniest movement of a muscle anywhere. "Could it have been you did not want to discover the reason for her unhappiness?"

"I..." Alistair stared incredulously at the Bann, "no. She is... was... my friend. Of course I would want to know." He rubbed his forehead slowly, thinking back to the night before, and times before that. He had noticed the mage becoming more and more distant in recent months: mainly since the members of the Landsmeet had been introducing him to their daughters. She had made excuses not to dine with him, avoided him. Left rooms when he had entered, started answering monosyllabically. She had not smiled or laughed as much as she had used to.

And he hadn't heard her sing for months.

He missed that.

The nights spent in camp where she and Lelianna would sing together, harmonising to Lelianna's lute playing. How Oghren would try to join in drunkenly with burps and hiccups, songs from Orzammar. Those had been evenings of pure enjoyment in a terrible time.

Alistair was suddenly plagued with memories. How Lelianna had forced Isha to help her entertain children in the Chantry in Redcliffe when they had waited for the undead attack that night after organising the town. Isha had been red in face, she had hated the bard at that moment as she had grimaced at her and made faces all the way through.

Morrigan had made harsh comments throughout but Alistair had enjoyed their singing. And they managed to calm the minds of the children and some of the townsfolk of Redcliffe, even if it was just for a short period of time.

"What were you two talking about in the gardens last night?" Alistair asked, turning to Bann Teagan. Teagan shifted in his chair. He had thought this would come up. "Did you upset her?"

"I didn't need to. You did that alone." Teagan replied primly. He was still a little angry with Alistair for scaring his wife so.

Alistair's mouth dropped open. "I-" He paused, "I what?"

"Kissing Elina," Teagan reminded him, "she saw it and disappeared. I followed after her about half an hour later and found her with the mabari shaking so violently I thought she had been poisoned. In truth, she was crying." Teagan was stone faced as he explained what had passed between himself and the dark haired mage the night before. Alistair was silent for some time. "She loves you Alistair. And the thought of you marrying another... it is tearing her apart. If you had paid attention – you would have seen that."

"Easy, brother." Eamon interjected. He could sense Teagan letting his passions getting the better of him and decided to step in there. He somehow doubted accusing comments at the King would help the situation.

"Why..." Alistair ran his hand over his short beard, "why didn't she tell me?"

"From what Teagan told me," Eamon explained, "she believes there is no hope for the two of you. She is a Mage, and not a Noble."

"But she is the Hero of Ferelden!" Alistair argued, "if she had not been here there would be _no_ Ferelden."

"Hero or not, she is not of Noble birth... as far as those in the Landsmeet are concerned she is not eligible to be Queen. And the Chantry would never allow a Mage to stand beside the King as anything more than an advisor." Eamon explained.

"But-" Alistair paused. What could he say to that? Everything Eamon said was true. He knew the Nobles only wanted another Noble to rule. Why they let him be King then was still a mystery. After all he was a bastard. His mother had been a scullery maid; if Arl Eamon had not informed him of who his father was, he would have remained a common bastard. "Andraste's Flaming Sword!"

"If I may," Bann Teagan spoke up, he was calm now. "Perhaps it would be wise to seek her out, and while you do that, myself and Eamon will seek out a solution to the problems arising from her being a Mage and a commoner. We are well liked with the Landsmeet, and you are well liked by them too."

Eamon agreed, "I have a feeling winning over the majority of the Landsmeet, convincing them that having the Hero of Ferelden on the throne was a good strong move, would not be a problem. It would be the Chantry who would have the most issue."

"Quite." Alistair decided, "I would suggest bringing the First Enchanter from the Circle to discuss things with the Revered Mother."

"We shall do that." Teagan confirmed. Alistair rose from his chair. "Where do you intend to begin your search?"

The King paused, he truly did not know. She had only left the night before so could not have gotten very far... if she was travelling on foot that was. If she had 'borrowed' one of the Calvary horses then she could have covered much more ground and more quickly. Alistair chewed his lower lip. If only she hadn't taken Argor! That mabari could track her for miles and miles. He had found her from Ostagar after all. It was like he had a honing ability on her blood.

Blood.

Her phylactery.

Mages had blood drawn when they entered the Circle.

That meant Isha would have had blood drawn too. And she was a fully fledged mage, it would have been moved to the Denerim vault.

Her phylactery was in Denerim.

"Her phylactery!" Alistair almost burst. Teagan and Eamon stared at him curiously, "I can use it to track her. It'll lead the way with her blood! It'll be here in Denerim!"

Eamon understood. First Enchanter Irving had explained phylacteries to him when Conner had entered the Circle tower, so he understood how they worked. For the most part they were used by Templars to track mages who had gone rogue and become Apostates. But there was no rule saying they could not be used for this purpose also.

"You must get her phylactery then, and follow her. Hopefully she has not ventured far." Eamon explained, "myself and Teagan will summon First Enchanter Irving here to talk with the Revered Mother, and we will try to use our influence on members of the Landsmeet that the Hero of Ferelden should be a just and valid choice for Queenship."

Alistair grasped the older man's hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you." He did the same to Teagan.

"Maker watch over you." Teagan advised. Alistair nodded once more and left the room as swiftly as he could. He had so much rushing around his mind he could barely think straight.

What had he been thinking?

He did not need to marry a noble, that was what everyone else wanted him to do. He was the King, he should have been able to marry anyone he wanted. He had been convinced by the Landsmeet as soon as he had opted to become King that he would not be able to marry Isha, that had been his plan all along after confessing how much he cared for her. They had said she would have been a fine advisor, but her lack of high birth and her magical ability did not make her a suitable Queen. Alistair had been so easy to influence then, he had believed them.

The conversation he had had with Isha, those few days before the final battle suddenly invaded his senses. He remembered it so well. How her expression had stayed stoic, like she had been taking lessons from Sten. But how all colour had drained from her face. She had held herself gracefully and without letting her emotions control her. At the time he had thought she had taken the news very well – now he thought back he could remember the way her body had shaken a little, how she had chewed her lower lip and how she had had trouble meeting his eyes, despite the schooled expression she held.

She had been breaking inside. Just as he had been.

It should have been obvious. After all their final kiss, an impromptu one before they had entered Fort Drakon, she had quivered and trembled. He recalled the sensation of her lips against his, how tentative the kiss was, not like the way she had kissed him before. It was as if she had known this would be their final kiss; that after that he would be someone else's and she would be forced to watch him carry on his life with someone else.

He recalled mentioning he would need to find a wife who could provide him with an heir when he had been telling her how impractical it would have been for them to be together.

Alistair wanted to hit himself.

Had he truly told her he was going to find a wife? In the midst of breaking her heart? And ignoring his own cracking in two?

"Alistair, you fool." He scolded himself. He was more than a fool. He was an ignorant fool who did not deserve the love of one so fair, kind and selfless. And yet he wanted her love... and he hoped, despite everything, she would accept his in return.

He carried on down the hallway. He needed to assemble a small troupe of guards to travel with him, he would not be allowed out of the castle without some. He needed to get her phylactery, and get horses ready. If all was organised, he and a band of soldiers should have been ready to leave within hours.

He hoped this would work, and that Eamon and Bann Teagan could somehow get the Revered Mother on his side.

* * *

Leaving the palace had been so much easier than Isha had anticipated. She knew the hallways and corridors so well, it was easy for her to avoid guards who patrolled in the dead of night, watching for trouble.

She had left the party shortly after Alistair had gone up to bed. It had been late by then. Argor had followed her obediently and waited by the door expectantly as Isha had calmly moved about her room, collecting items she felt she would need and placed them all in a knap sack. She took tomes, a few clothes, salves and lyrium potions and changed from her robes of state back into the dark blue Robes of Witch she had worn for so much of their time travelling. They were comfortable and allowed her easier movement. She had also covered herself in a dark cloak with a deep hood which covered her face almost entirely. After strapping her staff to her back, she left the room and did not look back.

Down the hallway and passed the main stairs, she knew the location of the secret door the servants used to get to and from the lower quarters of the palace without being seen or disturbing anyone. The stairwell was a spiral, and it descended for several floors until Isha reached the ground floor. She slid into the kitchen and picked up a few food supplies to keep her going until she reached her first location and could restock. She also took a few mabari crunches for Argor.

The mabari followed her silently, his paws padding softly on the stone floor behind her. He was on full alert, and growled quietly whenever he sensed guards or servants nearby who could blow her cover. Isha would hide, and Argor would find something to duck under until they were both sure the danger had passed. She left the kitchen through the side door, and it closed softly behind her as she rose the latch from the outside and made sure it was locked.

Leaving the courtyard was slightly harder than escaping the palace building. Guards were littered everywhere, in pairs or small groups. They spoke to one another about the menial things waiting to be relieved by more guards.

Keeping to the wall, hidden in the shadows thanks to the dark colour of her cloak, Isha was able to pass mostly un-noticed. It was only if she accidently stepped on a dried twig that she resorted to using a minor Mind Blast spell to stun anyone. Reaching the stables had been easy enough once she'd left the court yard and found her way around the outer wall to them. No one guarded the horses at night, and the only people who remained near the stables were their elven grooms.

Argor had waited patiently as Isha had saddled and bridled a dark brown mare she favoured, Uriel. At first the horse had been nervous and skittish, not knowing the scent of Isha and disliking how she was being moved from her comfortable stable so late. Isha had shushed the uneasy animal with soft words and warm hums from her voice. She stroked the horse's nose and neck, talking in a calm voice while she had saddled her so that she became accustomed to her.

Once fully tacked up, Isha had led her away from the stables with Argor and out of the stables. One hand connected to the bridle she led the way away from the palace, away from any guards ears that could hear them, keeping to the grass verges kept neat by the gardeners to prevent Uriel's hooves from making more noise than necessary.

At a safe distance Isha had mounted the mare and disappeared with Argor into the night.

Cantering through the city gates of Denerim, hiding her face from those who guarded them it felt like an invisible chain and lock that had been engulfing her for the past nine months had suddenly dropped off her body. She felt instantly lighter for leaving the city; it no longer had any hold on her now she had left.

She had been so determined to leave she had not thought on Alistair, not on the duties she was leaving behind. The people and the few friends she had at court. What she was doing, leaving the way she was, it was an entirely selfish gesture – so unlike her. During their journeys she had done her utmost to be a good person. Do the right thing, even when her gut instinct had been the exact opposite. She had wanted so much to please Alistair that she had put her own thoughts, wants and desires to one side.

And for what? To be thrown aside like nothing.

Her thoughts were still bitter as she rode. She squeezed her legs around the horse, pushing her easily into a full gallop as they reached the grass fields surrounding Denerim, littered with roads leading to her heart. Isha's hood fell back from her head, she had let her hair down and relished the feel of it pulling against her head, pushed back by the wind.

The feeling of the air rushing by her, screaming passed her ears as she rode – she loved it. It was like a type of freedom she didn't know existed. Here she was, for the first time not bound to anything or anyone. She had left Denerim, she had nothing there for her any longer. She was not bound to the Circle... she did not have to unite Ferelden under a common goal.

For the first time, ever, Isha could honestly say she was free.

And... that scared her.

She had brought Uriel to a smooth trot and finally to a walking pace. The mare panted from her exertions and Isha climbed out of the saddle. She undid the girth several notches to let the horse regain herself. Pulling the reins over her head, she led the way on foot for a time, thinking to herself. Uriel followed at her own pace, and Argor kept to her side listening and smelling for potential danger.

Here she was in the wilds of the countryside bar two animal companions and free for the first time. Her own person. She was still a Grey Warden – but what of that now the Blight was ended? There was no need for the Grey Wardens for the moment. Not until another Blight and that would be long after her own death.

She was no longer shackled to anything. And she had no idea what to do.

The whole situation was incredibly ironic to her, and soon Isha was laughing to herself. Loud and hard, gripping her stomach as her breath struggled to remain in her lungs. Argor stared at her curiously in her hysterical state. Tears were forming in her eyes and started to fall as her laughter turned into sobs and she crumbled onto her knees.

This whole thing was... idiotic. She had run away – basically – left Denerim, left everything she knew and had no clue. No plan, no ideas what she was going to do! She had been so desperate to leave her unhappiness and find her place in the world she hadn't even stopped to think what she would do.

Argor had whined at her side and nudged her face with his muzzle. Isha had regained her composure, wiped her face and unsaddled Uriel. The horse would be able to gallop faster if she was not laden down with more weight than was necessary. Isha was an accomplished rider, riding bare back would cause her no problems. She had led the horse on with the bridle and walked for a while longer, thinking of her options.

She supposed she could go back to the Circle of Magi, see how things were there. Or maybe just become a mercenary for hire. She was a strong mage. Smart too. She was a good strategist and had good, strong healing abilities too and decent Primal powers. She could come in useful.

Eventually she had wound up on the outskirts of a small town named Bilthwells, just as the sun was peaking up over the horizon.

After she had rented a room to rest in, and stabled Uriel she had slept soundly for a most of the day. She would stay for that night too, and then move on in the morning unless there was something for her to do in this small town like quests from the Chanter's board perhaps. After waking up, washing and feeding Argor, Isha ventured outside with her mabari.

The town was very much like Lothering, small, and tightly packed together. There was a small river with a bridge leading to the other side of the town. A Chantry, tavern. A collection of houses and some shops for basic necessities. Places such as these rarely had need of weapon shops or places like The Wonders of Thedas in Denerim.

Isha took a book from her knapsack and left the room. She intended to enjoy the last of the evening, relish the sense of freedom she suddenly had to get used to. She had discarded her cloak in her room, and it was as if no one knew who she was as she wandered around, getting her bearings. No one stared at her, no one whispered to one another that she was the Grey Warden, or that she was a mage... though out here mages were known more as witches. To the villagers, she was just another traveller. It was an anonymity she was not used to.

Finally settling on a patch of grass away from the main throng of shops and houses, and far away from the Chantry Isha thumbed through her book. She was a good mage, but kept up the studies of her art all the time, not wanting to be left behind on the times. She also enjoyed reading about the histories of Ferelden.

The pages fell open at a point she knew well and the dried rose fell into her lap. Despite its dry state the petals that remained had lost none of their colour. They were still a rich, vibrant red. The same colour they had been when Alistair had first given it to her.

Isha fingered the flower gently, stroking the petals with her fingertips. Argor sniffed it.

"You remember this, don't you?" she asked the dog, who barked in reply, sitting back on his haunches. She leaned against the fence, keeping sheep in a field. The rose had meant so much back then. And now? Now it still meant something to her, but it just felt like the sentiment behind it when she had first received it was had been a lie. Isha sighed and discarded the rose to the ground. "Fool girl." She muttered to herself.

Argor whined beside her nudging the rose with his nose, but she ignored him. The mabari was far too intelligent for his own good at times.

By the time darkness came, Isha had grown tired and made her way back to the tavern which was a bustle of activity. She checked on Uriel quickly. She had been fed and watered and now slept with one hoof lifted gingerly off the floor.

Entering the tavern Isha's ears were bombarded by the sounds of shouting, loud talking, burping and a group of drunkards singing songs loudly and out of tune. It hurt her ears and Argor growled beside her, also not being a fan.

It seemed all the villagers crowded into the tavern when evening came to drink themselves into a stupor. Isha was not comfortable with this, and in fact wanted nothing more to disappear up into the room she had rented and sleep. Being asleep was the only time she gained some form of respite from her feelings. Try as she might she was not happy with how she had left, and being away from Denerim... being away from _him_ did not put a stop to the way she felt. In fact it seemed only to make it worse. Like his absence made her feelings ten times more powerful, and consequently, made everything hurt more.

Feeling like this was tiring.

She eased through a stumbling group of men, dodged another who fell from his stool, drunk to the point of sleep, aiming to reach the stairs. A group of five or six men blocked the way, all with their arms around one another, singing a sea shanty – at least that was what it sounded like. She recognised their armour as one of the rogue groups of Knights from Denerim, the Oars... Crimson Oars?

Yes, that was it. The Crimson Oars, who had been chased out of Denerim for their incorrigible behaviour.

Isha hoped they would not recognise her as she tried to squeeze passed them to get up the stairs. Argor had bounded through them to the landing, where he now waited for his mistress. The soldiers had barely noticed him.

Stepping through two of the men, Isha felt a hand grasp her thigh, and another had reach underneath the back flap of her robe and was grasping her backside.

"How much?" one of the men slurred. He looked like he could barely stand.

Isha's eyes flared, "unhand me." No one touched her. _No one_. She was the property of one man, and would not allow anyone else to defile her in any way.

She was yanked into the lap of one of the men, his arm over her waist, pinning her in place. "C'mon lovely – name yer price!" He leered. His friends were doing the same, laughing and a waitress came and delivered more tankards of ale. Isha struggled, but was held tight in place. The stench of alcohol was so intense it stung her nose.

"I said: unhand me." Isha snarled fiercely. "My final warning."

"Ah, love." The one with his hands on her backside squeezed her flesh. Isha's hand went flying before she would stop it. The sound of skin meeting skin flashed in the tavern, causing a stop to merriment. The Crimson Oar solider seemed to sober quickly. He grabbed her wrist and threw her up onto her feet, rising after her. Despite his drunk state, he was able to stand easily. His companions rounded on her. Argor barked wildly crashing down the stairs and stepping in front of his mistress. His back arched he snarled dangerously.

"Heh, a mabari and his bitch." The one holding Isha in place sneered, "you should learn your place, love."

Isha glowered, "you have no idea who you are dealing with." She warned. She was not afraid of drunken ruffians. She had magic on her side, and Argor. That was more than enough to deal with men unable to see straight.

The soldier pulled his sword from the sheath dangling from his waist. His brethren did the same. There was a pause, then he lunged.

Argor bounded forward, knocking two of the men to their feet with his massive paws. He bit into the throat of one of them. Isha took a moment and released a Mind Blast spell from her finger tips. The four remaining men were stunned. Another spell erupted from her hand, coating two of the men in ice, freezing them in place, then a massive fist made of stone appeared, careering into the two frozen men. They were knocked back into a table. One of the shattered on impact.

A sudden pain careered through Isha's shoulder where a dagger had pierced through her skin. She turned quickly, snatching the dagger from the hand of her attacker. Argor leapt at one man's back, Isha swiftly dodged a laboured two-handed sword swing, crushing the dagger blade into the side of her attacker's neck. Blood drained from the wound, staining her clothing.

Two men remained standing, their swords dropped to the floor and their faces aghast.

"I did warn you." Isha hissed, "now get out of my sight." They departed in a rush, leaving the stairs free for her to ascend. The tavern was still silent and Isha turned to see the faces of the patrons staring at her. She sighed, waiting for the onslaught of comments to come.

"You're a witch-" One person cried. Isha winced, she hated that term.

"Someone needs to get the Templars here-"

"Quick go to the Chantry-"

"An Apostate-"

"Maker's Breath." She pinched the bridge of her nose, the Templars would know who she was. She would no longer been another no body. So she remained where she was, not making any sudden movements, the last thing she wanted to do was panic the common folk any more, and waited for the Templars to arrive. Which they did, along with a sister from the Chantry. Isha's eyes widened, recognising the short red hair and the warm face of the bard.

Lelianna instantly saw her and pushed through the Templars.

"Isha!" The two women embraced, Isha's body shook. The relief of seeing someone she knew was immense. Argor was barking happily, pawing at Lelianna's robes wanting her attention to. "What are you doing here?"

Isha shook her head, "it is... a very long story."

Lelianna eyed the dark haired mage carefully, holding her shoulders. Her expression was vague and unreadable. It made Isha nervous. Lelianna was searching her face for some clues to the reason she was there. She didn't want to explain it all. Yet Lelianna after some long moments smiled, "that is all right. You know how I love stories!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! Thanks for the feedback on chapter two! :)**

**I hope this one is enjoyable too... **

**I thought I would explain maybe why Alistair isn't the Alistair we all recognise from the game pre-Blight. The reason is in the play through this story is based upon it was a hardened Alistair who was put on the throne. If you've not played through with a hardened Alistair, the option to rule with him never comes up. Ergo – this was born.**

**There are memories that will crop up throughout that relate back to their adventure before he becomes King. And he will change a bit throughout. **

**Also, the ages of Alistair and Isha are mentioned in this chapter. As they're never mentioned in game I had to make it up. .;  
**

**Please let me know if you have any questions. :3**

**

* * *

**

_"Hearts will never be made practical until they are made unbreakable."_

It had been a surprise to see Isha to say the least for Lelianna when she had gone with the Templars into the tavern. She had her reason for doing so. One of the townsfolk had run across to the Chantry raving in a panic about a witch who was attacking everyone in the tavern. The Templars had been on alert immediately, weapons drawn rushing across the bridge to the building where they saw several people fleeing from. The man who had told them of the 'witch' mentioned she had a mabari with her, that she had taken down four of the Crimson Oars who had been running amok through the town.

The fact she travelled with a mabari had been what had first tipped Lelianna off. She had only known of one mage who travelled with a mabari: as they were normally reserved for Ash Warriors. She hadn't said anything at first, just followed acting under the pretence she wanted to tend to any wounded, despite the Templars insisting she remain back at the Chantry.

Then on entering the tavern it had been irrefutable who the witch was. Isha's hair was down and she looked tired and defeated, she had blood staining her robes, and Argor panted at her feet with blood dripping from his maw, not his own. Her eyes had lost none of their intelligence though and the moment the Templars had charged in, Lelianna had recognised Isha calculating the situation, deciding what spells would work best against her possible captors. She had pushed through the armed Templars more for their own safety than anything else.

What she had seen on the mage's face shocked her. Usually so in control, calm and elegant, her face had crumbled. Isha looked weak, scared and not like herself and when they had hugged, Lelianna had felt her practically fall against her, like she had no strength in the legs. Her body had trembled and the bard could sense the dark haired woman's desire to let down her walls and have a chance to express how she felt. The feeling of that was only more intent when Lelianna had stared straight into her eyes and seen a kind of loneliness in the Grey Warden she had only witnessed in the faces of those who had lost those they loved, be they husbands, wives, sons, daughters, fathers or mothers. It was a look of loss, and despair. Lelianna's heart felt heavy.

Getting rid of the Templars had not been quite as easy as getting rid of the Crimson Oars. Lelianna had explained who Isha was, a Grey Warden and the Hero of Ferelden, but many of the Templars were newer recruits who had only recently taken their vows and were not aware of the Grey Wardens, or of the Hero of Ferelden part. As far as they were concerned, Isha was a mage, a rogue mage at that – and to them that made her extremely dangerous.

They had approached her to take her into custody. Argor had lashed out, and it seemed the mabari's stubbornness wore off on the townspeople. Now they knew who Isha was, they were less frightened of her, and were more aggressive towards the Templars, defending the exhausted woman who Lelianna kept close to her side.

The Templars were adamant that she be taken somewhere else, somewhere she could not cause harm or damage. Hero or not.

Eventually Lelianna's rogue nature showed itself in her speaking, she was able to persuade the Templars. She convinced the inexperienced men to let her stay with the mage; that she would remain on behalf of the Templars and the Chantry to watch her. And that if she did anything deemed dangerous, she would send for the Templars immediately.

It took some convincing, but finally the Templars allowed it, on the condition one of them remained outside the mage's door in the tavern. Lelianna agreed and escorted Isha to her room on the top floor of the tavern. One Templar, Janus, went with them, and stood guard once the door was closed.

It did not open again for the rest of the night.

The room itself was small, quaint. It had all the basic necessaries, and the single bed had a clean mattress, clean sheets and a woollen blanket. When Isha had slept the night before she hadn't really registered the texture of them, but now as she sat on the blanket she noticed how scratchy it was, that the mattress was hard, like it was stuffed with straw. It was not like her bed in the palace where she had had a large bed, soft mattress and goose down pillows and feathers.

It had been like sleeping on a cloud after sleeping on the ground and bed rolls for so long.

Isha set herself down on the single bed, Argor climbed up after her and slumped on her legs, his head in her lap. She rubbed his ears slowly and in a way which meant she avoided Lelianna's sharp gaze. It was so strange to see her again in Chantry robes no less. Last time she had been in ancient Elven armour they had found in the Brecilian Forest ruins... during their travels Isha had almost entirely forgotten that Lelianna had been a Lay Sister before joining them in Lothering.

Lelianna sat herself on the very end of the bed and eyed her dark haired friend. The only light came from the small fire place in the room which kindled and popped happily behind a protective grate. She examined the belongings around the room, saw the cloak, her staff and the small collection of food, salves, potions and a stack of three books. She had not packed much; so where ever she had come from he had left without much forethought.

"What are you doing here?" Lelianna asked, never one for beating around the point, she dove straight in. Isha stiffened. Argor whined and licked her hand. "I am happy to see you, of course, but I was under the impression you were with Alistair in Denerim."

Isha didn't meet her eye. "There were... some changes. I wanted to take a break."

"And did Alistair know you were leaving?"

"Yes." Isha lied. Lelianna stared at her shrewdly. Isha felt like she was being judged by Wynne all over again and shrank beneath her glare. She didn't feel like the strong Hero of Ferelden she was meant to be. "No." She said finally.

Lelianna sighed softly. "I thought not." She made herself comfortable. "Perhaps you should tell me that story now."

So, Isha did.

To her own ears it made no sense. She spoke quickly, sometimes gasping for breath when she finished sentences. She regularly rose from the bed and paced; Lelianna and Argor followed her with their eyes and heads as she moved about the room. She waved her arms wildly, venting her frustrations, ran her hands through her hair. Paused on occasion to regain her composure whenever she felt herself loosing it. She cried, yelled and raged. And through it all Lelianna listened with an attentive and sympathetic ear.

Speaking about the past nine months to someone who Isha knew as well as Lelianna, and someone who did not see her as some unflappable heroine made her feel human again. Not like she was a walking vessel of pent up emotions. She was able to get her thoughts straight for the first time in what felt like months. Able to talk freely, without fear of being over heard. It also allowed her to evaluate her feelings again, especially as she spoke about the more recent months, where match making had started.

How she had at first felt jealous of the women flaunted in front of Alistair; how many times when it had started she had wanted to enter his chambers and tear his clothes off. Jump into his bed with reckless abandon and lay her claim on him, King or not. But she had never acted on those feelings. Maker had known how much she had wanted to, but her own nature prevented her. She had been afraid of rejection, that if she did that... went to him and offered herself that he would turn her away. That he would confirm her darkest fears that he had moved on, that he no longer loved or cared for her as she did for him.

As she always would for him.

The jealousy had turned to bitterness, to resentment... to almost hatred of those Noble women who flirted so openly with him, and he did in return with his witty one-liners, most charming smiles and disarming comments. She hated them, and often pictured them shattering on the floor, or being torn apart by Ogres. She realised it wasn't them she hated. It was not their fault they had been born into nobility, that they had chances she would never have.

Isha had started to hate herself.

Started to hate her low birth status; that she had been cursed with magical powers and shipped off to the Circle which denied her all life experiences which were normal for young women her age. She was nineteen now. She had been just seventeen when she had been Conscripted by Duncan, right under Commander Greigor's nose.

She hated it because that was what was keeping her from being happy. It was what kept her from Alistair. Were she not a mage the Chantry would not view her as a danger. Were she not of low birth she would have fit in with the Nobles – been one of their own. Everyone would have approved of her. But it was a pipe dream, this was her lot in life, low born Mage. She would never be seen as anything else.

Without prompting she had gone on to explain to Lelianna how she had taken to handling her feelings, how she had started capping them, schooling herself not to let them out or show if she could help it. How she had started avoiding Alistair if she could. How even in close company where it was just the two of them she didn't speak if she could. She had walked around the palace feeling like she was a kettle ready to boil over, that if she even dared to speak more than five words to the King at any one time everything would start spilling out of her mouth and she wouldn't be able to retract the things she said.

Finally she explained how she came to be in this small town, how she had run away from the palace. Away from Alistair away from _everything_ for her own sanity. How she had no clue what she was going to do now she had nowhere to go and feel welcome.

It took some time, but finally she collapsed on the bed her eyes over spilling with tears. Isha laughed in spite of herself, wiping them away with her hands.

"Oh Maker, you'd have thought I couldn't cry any more. Considering." She sniffed, and smiled at her friend for the tiniest moment. Lelianna returned it. Isha had to admit, she felt so much better for talking things through, even if she felt most of what she had said was a collection of garbled nonsense.

Lelianna sat in silence letting Isha regain composure. She had known that after Alistair's coronation he had not taken Isha as his wife... something everyone had anticipated, and everyone had been surprised about when he did not. She remembered that day after the Landsmeet where he was declared King where he had taken Isha aside to speak to her in private. How after that, where before Isha had been talkative and warm, she seemed to have lost all her spark. That on the days that followed she barely spoke to any one unless it was organising battle plans, or giving orders to troops. And at the coronation she had been reserved, avoided the celebrations and had made a brief appearance to the public before disappearing.

Isha ran her hands over her hair. "I am sorry... you do not need to hear about all this."

"Oh shush." Lelianna scolded her with a gentle finger wag. "I asked, didn't I?"

"I ... suppose."

"Well then. No apologising."

Isha smiled a little. She leaned up against the bed head, Argor shuffled into her lap and she grunted under his weight. He was an affectionate mabari, but a very heavy one too. Lelianna pursed her lips as she thought things over. She patted Argor's haunches and he glanced over his shoulder at her, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, his small tail wagging with the rest of his back end.

"At least someone is faithful to me." Isha murmured, rubbing the dog's cheeks. He barked in response and licked her face.

"Alistair is faithful." Lelianna said softly. Isha threw her an icy look, but Lelianna continued. "In everything you said you did not mention Alistair actually _finding _ a Queen. He has not made a match. Has not taken another woman to his bed, yes?"

Isha opened her mouth, then closed it promptly. She had no reply for that.

Lelianna continued, "you are both such stubborn people. So head strong and passionate, I remember thinking it when I used to watch you in camp. When you argued it was so heated... there was so much zeal between you. Passion like that cannot be extinguished with the crowning of a King."

Again Isha kept silent, she had nothing to say to what the bard said. There was truth to it, or at least there was hope. There had been nights where she and Alistair had argued so much Wynne had been forced to step in. They never argued about petty things, it was always about difficult decisions, or things they had not agreed on. Alistair was head strong, Isha was determined, they were both incredibly hard headed and stubborn. It had been mentioned to them both on more than one occasion.

As she had sat in silence, Lelianna had moved to the dresser, picked up Isha's hair brush and was now sitting at her side, running it through her hair slowly. In camp she and Lelianna had often played with hair styles, amusing each other with silly styles, ostentatious styles and over complicated looks. It had made Lelianna remember her beloved Orlais, and Isha had enjoyed having a female friend to talk to.

"Tell me," Lelianna said softly fingering Isha's hair, "did you ever take the time to mention the way you felt to Alistair?"

"I..." Isha trailed. She had tried to speak to Alistair about her feelings, but had never quite got the words out. She had been terrified of that rejection from him. And after a while it was too hard to even be in the same room as him, let alone talk to him. Being close to him made her skin tingle, but at the same time made her stomach twist and her heart hammer and ache as she relived those moments from before, where he had told her he needed a wife who could bear a child.

Those words that day had killed something inside Isha, and she had not been able to show genuine happiness or mirth since. It had been so long since she had felt truly happy. And the last time that had been was before the battle with the Archdemon, before the Landsmeet, curled up in bed together in Arl Eamon's estate in Denerim. They had rested one night after meeting Ser Otto in the Alienage and Isha had avoided being possessed by a Rage Demon. She had felt happy, contented and... loved wrapped in his embrace. He had kissed her hair, her skin. They had talked, and then spent long periods of time not speaking, just enjoying the silence and one another's company.

Just thinking of that night, Isha's skin rose in goose flesh and she tingled.

"No." She answered Lelianna eventually. "I didn't. I wanted to-" she added before Lelianna could speak, "and I made attempts. But whenever I got close to saying something... I just could not do it. He had made his feelings clear to me, Lelianna. What difference would it have made?"

Lelianna sighed and shook her head, smiling with amusement. "He made the feelings that the Landsmeet had enforced on him clear. That he needed a wife that could bear a child, provide a Theirin blood heir, yes? _His_ feelings were not those. The fact he has not taken a wife. That he has not taken another to his bed. That he still values you, and your opinion to keep you as his Chancellor, keep you close... it tells me his feelings for you are unchanged."

"But that doesn't change anything!" Isha replied. "We cannot marry. The Nobles and the Chantry would never allow it."

The redhead laughed, and tilted her head back thoughtfully. "What was it I heard you once say to him... that no one can make a King do what he does not want to do. He loves you. And you love him. He will find a way for you to be his wife. Nobles be damned. And Chantry too, I am sure."

Isha shrank back again and stared into Argor's face thoughtfully. The mabari panted and tilted his head, meeting her eyes. The way his mouth was shaped it looked like he was grinning. He licked her hand.

The dark haired woman let her head fall back. "He broke my heart." She murmured, "if only he had just been honest. I do not know if I could trust him again with it."

"Then he should earn that trust back." Lelianna agreed, she lay the hair brush in her lap, "but running away like this? Hiding from him and only torturing yourself? This is not like you, my friend."

"I couldn't think of anything else to do." Isha murmured. "I didn't want to stay. Not like this. Not feeling so bitter towards him and hating myself so much. I thought leaving would make things easier to bear. When in truth... I feel worse. I have no aims, no idea what to do – where to go. And my feelings, Maker, Lelianna, it's like just being away from him makes it hurt all the more."

Lelianna laughed softly, "well they do say, absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Isha managed a small chuckle and tilted her head back onto the red head's shoulder. "Who ever 'they' are, they have no idea how right they are."

* * *

Retrieving Isha's phylactery from the Templar vault had been harder than Alistair had anticipated. Despite being King, he had been asked a whole manner of questions as to why he needed the phylactery, what he intended to do with it; why he was tracking a mage. Did the Templars have anything to be concerned about – there had been mentions of Isha turning rogue? He had been told he would need to take at least two Templars with him in his troupe to seek her out.

All their questions and silly statements Alistair had replied to curtly, and with quickly decreasing patience. Everyone moment he wasted, he was aware that Isha could have been getting further away from him. He didn't know her plans, but she had mentioned in passing conversations wanting to venture to Antiva, to see if really living up to all Zevran said it was.

If she did that and crossed the sea, then finding her would be even more difficult. Alistair was only too aware that he was not "allowed" to leave Denerim and his throne in the placement of a regent for long periods of time. No one wanted what had happened with Loghain to happen again. Though Alistair knew this would not occur. His selected regent was Arl Eamon, and Eamon was someone he trusted with his life.

It had taken more time than Alistair had wanted it to, and his tolerance for the idiotic questions he was asked by the Templars grated on his last nerve, but eventually he was allowed into the vault and joined by two Templars to search for the correct vile.

It was the first time Alistair had been inside the vault. He had seen it from the outside during his Templar training, but it was only full Templars who had taken their vows who were allowed inside to handle the delicate items.

Protected by a massive stone door which was opened by a series of intricate turning keys, the inside of the vault was huge. And cold. It was kept at a lower than average temperature to prevent the blood in the vials from boiling, and any damage being made to the delicate containers. The walls went further back than Alistair could have imagined, back underneath what was probably the main hall of the Chantry (the vault was beneath the building). And each wall was lined with bookshelves lined with dozens and dozens of different containers, each with some blood in them. The phylacteries were all different shapes and sizes, some looked like decanters, others like potions bottles, some were odd shapes, with engravings. Others were just plain to look at. But each was labelled with a name and a date in ornate hand writing.

Alistair shivered against the chill as he followed the Templars inside; had he known he would have brought a cloak with him or something thicker than the buck skin britches he wore and the cotton shirt. He went to the book shelf closest to him and started to examine the phylacteries before him. The two Templars went to opposite sides of the room and did the same.

They were so quiet and stoic, they didn't make friendly conversation to him or to one another, just concentrated on their objective, carefully handling vials one at a time. Alistair marvelled at the past, how close he had become to being one of their own. Had Duncan not recruited him... he would have been the same. Dependant on Lyrium, a mage hunter. A mage hater. While many Templars were accepting of mages, they did not trust them. And even more still hated them, thinking they were abominations in human form and should be terminated on first demonstration of their powers.

Alistair had never agreed with that belief. He would have never been all right with it.

He had witnessed a Harrowing – the ritual a mage went through to become a full fledged mage – once. And that had been enough. The mage had been a teenage girl, about eighteen. She had failed her Harrowing and he had been forced to land the final blow before the demon came through the veil from the Fade. It had been an experience one Alistair had never wanted to experience again. He recalled how his hands had shaken and how he had washed himself over and over trying to rid himself of her blood, and wash her terrified face from his mind. He had been eighteen.

That had been four years ago, now he was twenty-two and he was still haunted by that night from time-to-time.

Funny, he thought, how four years wasn't really a huge amount of time and yet so much had happened. Duncan had conscripted him a week after his twentieth birthday. He had been so grateful for it and had latched to Duncan instantly after meeting him. He had looked up to him like a father, not knowing his own, only knowing him by name and reputation. The other Grey Warden's had made fun of Alistair's hero worship of the Warden-Commander; but he ignored their comments and teasing.

He could easily say those six months where he had been a Grey Warden, before Ostagar, before everything had happened were probably the happiest of his life. He had made so many friends, bonded with many over a common ground. For him, he had felt like for the first time he had a family. Like he belonged somewhere and was making a difference. Duncan had taught him a lot about being responsible, about compassion and being a better person. Other Grey Warden's had taught him more when it came to fighting, when it came to women – though he had still been hopeless in the latter subject and the target for much teasing and taunting.

Then... everything had changed. The aftermath of Ostagar had been a terrible time. He had hated it. He had spent nights crying, and hours in revered silence away from everyone, trying to ignore Morrigan's jibes. The one and only saving grace of it all had been Isha. She had talked to him about all manner of things mundane, just to get him to speak back. Listened when he had wanted to talk about Duncan, about the other Grey Warden's, about how he was mourning. She had been patient, tolerant, kind and gentle towards him; so many things he wasn't used to. He had a memento of his mother thanks to her. And one of Duncan because of her determination to... to what? Show he hadn't been alone? That she had cared?

He hadn't needed items to know that, but appreciated them, and they had pride of place. Duncan's shield in the rose garden and the necklace never left Alistair's neck.

She had been his everything during those long nights and dark days. She had been his support, his sturdy rock one whom he could rely... and then he had done his best to repay her care. When they had gone to the Circle and found it over run with Blood Mages, and Abominations she had been inconsolable, more so when the mention of the Rite of Annulment had been mentioned.

"_You cannot be serious?" Isha asked fiercely, staring at Commander Greigor her eyes wide and mouth drawn into a tight line. He eyed her with distaste, Alistair sensed there was past history between the two. "You intend to close the doors and... and what, let any remaining mages be fodder for the Abominations?"_

"_There are no mages still alive-"_

"_You do not know that!" Isha screamed. "You idiot; there are innocent people in there __**dying!"**_

_Greigor had given her the worst look Alistair had ever seen, as if he was trying to kill her with his gaze and still Isha had not backed down. It had taken a few moments but she had barged past him and to the door the Templars had sealed._

"_Let me in."_

"_Don't be foolish, girl."_

"_I said: let me in." Isha had turned her eyes back to Greigor. "I will bring the First Enchanter to you, I will rid the Circle of Abominations and Blood Mages and you will not invoke the Rite of Annulment."_

She had been a tower of strength then, standing up to Greigor especially for a woman so young. She was head strong and determined. Something that had first attracted Alistair to her. She was fair and just, had her own sense of right and wrong and was unselfish. But her determination was unrivalled as far as he was concerned. She had wanted to get into the Circle, she had done it. She had wanted the Elves on her side, she had done it. She had wanted to destroy the dragon on the mountain top which guarded the Ashes of Andraste, she had done it.

Shaking himself from his memories, Alistair had returned to the task at hand, finding her phylactery. There would be time enough to think back on things when she was back at the palace. Home, with him.

"Your Majesty," one of the Templars called his attention, "I believe this is the one." He held the tag out to read the name. "Amell... Iryanisha?" he struggled with her full name. Alistair's eyes lit up. That was the one. He had been with the Templar in two long strides and took the bottle from his hand. The bottle itself was about the length of his index finger with a flat bottom and it was sealed with a cork. Mostly plain, near the neck of the bottle it had a pattern engraved of a swan.

"Thank you." Alistair said. He quickly left the vault and disappeared back to the palace. It was night when he left the vault. Upon returning to the palace he had found Captain Ingus and order a patrol of soldiers to be ready to leave at first light.

He had not slept well that night, he had stared at Isha's phylactery which had glowed softly on his bedside table. It had been funny lying there with the phylactery so close. An essence of Isha an arm's length away. In a way it made him miss her all the more.

The morning came, Alistair dressed in his armour, it was necessary for when he travelled in case of any sudden battles. And if truth be told, he liked wearing his armour, it made him feel as though he had more of a purpose again. Out in the courtyard a collection of six guards and two Templars had been rounded up, each sitting ready to leave on horseback. Alistair's own horse, a dapple grey cob gelding named Dreidin was ready to be ridden.

Leading the group, phylactery in hand leading the way with a soft glowing trail that Alistair seemed only to be able to see, they set of from Denerim, trotting through the streets of the town until they were out of the city gates where they broke into full canter to make speed and cover distance.

Where ever she was, Alistair hoped it wasn't far, and that she would be willing to come back. He did not want to be away with the guards for longer than necessary. They were not like her, or the rest of their travelling companions. They had teased and talked like friends. The soldiers treated him only as King, and dared not make fun of him. They did not joke or even talk comfortably with each other when he is in their midst. Everyone was so ridged; and made themselves keep up appearances of propriety. Alistair hated it.

When he had taken the offer of Kingship he had not known how much everything would change. Of course he had known he would take on a lot of responsibility – be responsible for an entire Kingdom as a matter of fact. He would have difficult choices to make but somehow those were easier to do with Isha around. Even when she had become distant she still took her placement as his Chancellor seriously.

In audiences he would glance at her if he was having trouble coming to a conclusion. She would made subtle gestures that he had come to learn and notice when they had travelled together, a barely noticeable nod of her head, sometimes the corner of her mouth would dip a little, and Alistair would press for further information. He had been grateful for her input.

They had been riding for nearly three hours when the glowing trail of the phylactery increased in brightness and became almost as solid as the ground. Alistair pushed Dreidin further with a kick of his heels into the horse's gut and charged ahead of the soldiers.

The town of Bilthwells was one Alistair knew little about. He knew it was close to Denerim, and that it was the North's equivalent to Lothering. But its townsfolk were of a funny sort, and kept mostly to themselves. From what he knew of them, they were born here, lived and died here. And rarely travelled out of its walls. It was a resting place for travellers and that was where it got most of its trade from. And most families were connected to each other by marriage.

The trail of the phylactery ended in the town.

Dreidin pawed the ground with his hooves impatiently and chomped at the bit as Alistair held him steady and placed the glass vial in a leather pouch safely connected to his belt.

"The trail ends here." He said, turning his horse to face the soldiers. "I don't want to scare her, or the villagers, so I will go in on Dreidin with one other guard. The rest of you on foot, and please – _please –_ don't draw attention to yourselves."

There was a collective salute. Captain Ingus directed his horse to Alistair's side while the other soldiers and the two Templars dismounted and tied their horses up on bars outside the town wall.

* * *

"You are a beautiful girl, yes you are. Lelianna will make you the prettiest horse the Maker has ever seen." Lelianna spoke in her lilting and melodious voice as she braided Uriel's mane delicately.

After their talk the night before, Lelianna had left Isha to sleep. The mage had been exhausted and had been fast asleep when Lelianna had left the room. Back at the Chantry she had reported to the Templars that Isha was no threat and she intended to leave the following two days if there were no jobs for her on the Chanters board. And then she had prayed.

She prayed every evening, giving her thanks to the Maker for ending the Blight and giving her the strength to face it. Prayed that Alistair remained a good and noble king and that all her friends were safe and happy. That night though, she had sat in the cloisters in deep thought at first, before going to the alter and praying to the Maker and Andraste. She had asked that Isha find it within herself to see how much Alistair cared; and that she find the strength to forgive and trust him again. Lelianna had been close to the mage when they had travelled together. They had spent long nights on watch, talking about everything.

Isha had been interested to hear about Orlais and Lelianna had been more than happy to oblige her with stories of it. And also of stories she had heard on her travels. And songs. She had discovered how Isha loved music. In return, Lelianna had asked about being a mage, and about Isha's family, her own past. Isha was very quiet about it; but she had talked a little about her life before the Circle. Lelianna considered the dark haired woman one of her closest friends, despite their age differences. Where Isha was twenty, Lelianna was now approaching twenty-six.

Morning had broken, Lelianna had not slept well but had left the Chantry to seek out Isha. Finding her in the stables of the tavern playing with Argor. She had looked happier, as if she had lost something that had been weighing her down. She had been in the middle of a tug of war game with the mabari – one the mabari was winning judging the dust and dirt covering Isha's legs and arms and the distinct lack of either on Argor. Upon seeing the red head Isha had released the dog and greeted her.

Argor now lay on the cobbles happily chewing a bone he had found while Isha and Lelianna groomed Uriel, who seemed to be enjoying the attention lavished upon her.

Isha brushed her coat until with was glistening in the sunshine while Lelianna combed the mare's tail until it was tangle free and then went to work on her mane, where she had almost completed the first row of braids.

"She's a war horse, Lelianna," Isha said, smiling a little, "not a parade horse."

Lelianna ignored her as she nimbly completed another braid. "You seem in better spirits today." She said, looking over the horse's withers at the other girl.

"Hmm." Isha murmured, "better spirits may be putting it too strongly. But I feel less... clouded. As if I have a sense of clarity."

"You have decided what you intend to do?" Lelianna asked.

"I think so." Isha nodded slowly, she was staring at the horses neck, watching the muscles quiver as she ran her hand down it in long strokes. "I am going to wait a few days... see if I have a change of heart. If not, then I will know my path."

"And where will that path take you?" pressed Lelianna.

Isha exhaled through her nose and quickly threw her hair onto one shoulder where she was wearing it down again. "To Denerim." She said nothing else as she bent at the waist, running her hand down the back leg of Uriel, clicking her tongue as her hand reached the horse's hoof. Uriel obliged, lifting the hoof off the ground, Isha reached for a hoof pick and began to gently scrape out the dirt and stable muck.

Suddenly Argor was on his feet, moving a few steps forward his ears pricked and whining as he sniffed the air. He chuffed eagerly, looking back at Isha who had moved on to Uriel's other back hoof. He chuffed again, in a further attempt to get her attention. Lelianna had not missed his noises and the change in his demeanour where he was now tense and almost quivering. She followed his gaze and could see why he was excited.

Horses, crossing the bridge from the Chantry. One a palomino and the other a dapple grey cob. Sitting aside the beast clad in royal armour was Alistair. His eyes scanned the area; and Lelianna knew who for. She stopped herself from getting Isha's attention, knowing it would not help. Argor was less happy to stay where he was and dashed across the ground to greet the King, bounding up at him, barking happily, slobbering from his jowls.

His barking caught Isha's attention.

"All right Argor! All right!" Alistair laughed, trying to guard his face from the dog's drool. The mabari was bouncing up at him, excited like a puppy. "I'm happy to see you too."

Lelianna glanced at Isha. She had turned to stone and where she had been wearing a glimmer of a smile, her face had sank and she looked terrified.

"Oh no..." Isha murmured. Argor was running back and Alistair followed on his horse. He followed the dog with his eyes and they landed on Isha, despite how she tried to hide behind Uriel. "Oh no. No. No, no, no, no!"

Lelianna's fell back. Uriel reared onto her hind legs, braying loudly. Isha had clambered onto her back, her fingers tangling in her mane, her legs gripping to the horses flanks. She kicked hard with her heels and pushed Uriel into a canter. Uriel neighed in panic forcing herself to jump over a low stone wall. Isha pushed her into a gallop.

"Isha, wait!" Lelianna yelled after her. Argor barked urgently. Alistair was a blur as he kicked his horse in to speed. It leapt over the same wall and a chase between the two began.

Isha was leaning as far over Uriel as possible, clinging with her legs, her fingers entwined in mane trying to keep steady. Her hands were sweaty and she didn't dare look back. Over the sounds of Uriel's hooves crashing on the ground, wind rushing passed her ears and the sound of her own heart beat, Isha's couldn't think straight.

Why was he here!

How had he found her is so short a time?

Why was she running?

Hadn't she just decided she was going to go _back_ to Denerim? That she wanted to go and face the things she had run away from, namely – him! Seeing him had been a shock, she admitted that, but now she was doing exactly what she had done before. Running.

Uriel was panting and her hooves thundered on the uneven ground. There was nowhere to hide, they were galloping over open fields and meadow, there was a forest in the distance but Uriel would tire long before they reached it. Isha considered using magic to help out run Alistair, but she didn't want to hurt him. And she needed to keep a consistent eye contact with the target for a spell to be accomplished, going at this speed she wouldn't be able to do that. And she feared letting go of the horse's mane.

"Faster, Uriel, faster!" Isha urged. The wind pushed air from her lungs and made breathing in difficult. Her legs squeezed around the mane and she leaned further down so she was lying across her withers. Almost like the horse and rider were one. Uriel pressed her hooves deeper into the ground, gathering more purchase. She snorted under the strain and effort of keeping up the speed, Isha refused to let up.

"ISHA!" She could hear Alistair's voice over the wind, just. She couldn't listen to it. She would go back, but she would go back when she was ready. Not yet. She wasn't ready to see him yet, she didn't have everything she wanted to say planned.

Then, everything started to happen in slow motion.

Uriel coughed violently, the effort of her exertions beginning to show. Isha kicked her sides with her heels, not wanting to give up yet. Uriel forced herself a few more yards and then reared. Isha grappled with her legs to stay on. Uriel began bucking and kicking her legs braying wildly, like she had been spooked by something Isha had not seen.

Her legs lost grip on the horses flanks, she was like a doll being flung around. Her fingers were slipping out of the horse's mane. She screamed and crashed onto the ground. She hit her head on something hard and could hear Uriel still neighing in a panic.

"Isha! Get up! ISHA!" Alistair's voice sounded a lot further away than it actually was. Out of the corner of her eye, Isha could see him approaching. Her fingers gripped the grass. Then she could see a flailing hoof coming down. As an immediate reaction, she rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. The hoof impacted with the right side.

She heard the crack before she felt the pain. As if she had been pierced with something sharp. The pain was a numb kind of pain at first and then as she breathed it felt like fire had ignited in her chest and was burning its way from the lungs up to her throat. It was intense. Isha couldn't think of anything to compare it to in her haze. Another crunch as a second hoof crushed down on her. Isha yelped at the sting, now double and curled up into a tighter ball, not daring to move.

"Uriel, Uriel! Settle! Alistair was shouting. He had the horses mane in his hands and was using all his strength to pull her away from the downed mage and to calm her at the same time. She brayed and kicked out her hind legs, shaking her head from side-to-side in a frantic urgency wanting to get away. Alistair held fast to her mane, yanking her head this way and that. Soon enough she had calmed. The danger – a pack of wolves that had appeared out of the long grass and snapped at her legs – had moved on. Uriel panted and snorted through large nostrils, gradually regaining her breath. She whinnied pawing the ground with her hooves.

Isha groaned on the ground.

Alistair released the mare and smacked her haunches, she trotted a short distance away.

"IDIOT!" Alistair growled, getting to Isha's side. "Why did you do something so stupid!" He wasn't angry with her, in fact the reason he shout was because he was afraid. He had seen her face when she saw him, before she had bolted and she had looked terrified of him. He had never seen that look on her face, not even when they had faced the Archdemon. But the knowledge that she stared at him like _that_... he felt a sense of loathing for himself.

Isha breathed slowly, she was trying to get to her feet, clutching her side where Uriel's hooves had landed on her body. She supported herself with her other arm.

"No." Alistair gently pushed her down to the ground. Isha obeyed. It was too painful to breathe, let alone argue. She felt fingers brushing hair out of her face. She swallowed and could taste blood. Her eyes were half hooded and breathing hurt, she could vaguely see Alistair above her, looking at her tentatively, examining her head and face for injuries. He looked aghast and pale. She tried to move her arm, wanting to reassure him she was all right. Her fingers barely twitched; pain gave way to numbness and then all was dark.


End file.
